Skip to main content

NaNoWhyThough: 30 days, 50k words, lots of tea.

I am NaNoWriMo-ing this year. It’s my third year having a bash at what feels to me an utterly sadistic challenge, wherein you boil a complex and intricate process down to a month’s worth of writing, that only really secures months and months of editing in the aftermath. And yet, here I am, bashing out a story that I hadn’t planned to write – largely because I decided to join the NaNoWriMo bandwagon the day before the blessed event was due to start.

I first tried to do NaNoWriMo in the middle of my MA degree; massive mistake, lasted a few days, developed a semi-decent character only to abandon the poor man and never write him again. The second time was last year; I was in the final year of my PhD (brilliant timing, yes, okay) and the horrendous editing for that had left me with creative energy to burn. I wrote every day, averaging at around 1700 words a pop, and I had a short story collection by the end of it.

This year, I am writing a thing. I don’t want to use the word novel because it feels far too serious for what I’m writing – so we’ll stick with thing. It’s a story about the disintegration of a marriage and how the smallest of incidents can cause the biggest of emotional crashes. It’s silly at times and over-written at others; the plot needs work as do my characters because I think one or both or them have come across as severely unhinged at one time or another. But I’m writing – nay, I’m enjoying writing, and frankly, it’s been a while since I could say that…

I had planned for an impassioned speech about the beauty of writing for the sake of writing, and how merely engaging in the artistic practice of putting words to paper was reward enough to engage in this painstaking month of key-smashing and tea-drinking like there’s no tomorrow. But I’m off the back of a writing session where I threw down just shy of 1800 words (after throwing down just shy of 3500 words yesterday) and, to be honest, I’m lacking in decent imagery. What I will say is this: NaNoWriMo makes me write like a writer. I wish I could I say that I write every day but I don’t; what I do do, though, is make sure I am meeting my overall word count by the end of the week. I think about the project daily and I work to get words down, even when those words feel like teeth being yanked from rotten gums (see, I told you I was lacking decent imagery). And that alone, to me, makes this seem like a worthwhile endeavour. If I have something that resembles the first draft of a story by the end of this sorry month, then that’s a total bonus.

I have read articles coming down hard against NaNoWriMo. On the flip side, I have read articles that propose those who criticise the NaNoWriMo process are doing so simply because it bastardises the mysticism of writing. It may be some feel that in ‘writing a novel in a month’ (which, I hasten to add, is a fast and loose way of describing what I’m doing right now) we are disregarding the craft, and skill, and whatever else goes into writing a book. While I half-understand that school of thought, I have to point out that while NaNoWriMo might promote fast-as-hell writing, it leads to hard-as-hell editing, so let’s not be too quick to discredit the skill that’s actually going into this work. Maybe NaNoWriMo just calls for – or rather, helps us practice – a different skill set to conventional writing habits, if such a thing as conventional writing habits even exist.

There are so many ways to argue for and against this project, but a few facts remain, and they’re facts worth remembering: NaNoWriMo encourages people to write, it maintains a worldwide community of writers, and it promotes something that day-to-day writers always wish people would show more of an interest in (that being, writing). There are people out there right now – like this very second, as you’re reading this – who are purging words like their lives depend on it, and regardless of whether they have a bestseller or not at the end of it, I absolutely salute their efforts, their determination, and their guts. 

To them, I say: Write on!


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Diary of a Whatever I Am Now: Transition period.

Transition: 'the process or the period of changing from one state or condition to another'. I wanted to make this blog more of a regular thing once my PhD was over, for several reasons. Partly it’s just to log what happens next and this, in itself, is two-fold: I want to have some kind of documentation of this recovery process (yes, that’s what I’m calling it) that follows the PhD, but I also live in hope that someone who is struggling with having finished their PhD might find this blog some day, and breathe a hefty sigh on realising that the weird grief-cum-relief they’re feeling right now isn’t totally abnormal – in fact, it might even be quite common. I also want to get into the habit of writing more – something I’m encouraging my own students to do now and I hate giving out writing advice that I haven’t/am not taking myself, and so here we are. This is my first post as a Whatever I Am Now (because I still don’t have balls big enough to write The Diary of a Writer in th...

Copycat: Second book fears, panic-writing, and plans for a sequel

When people ask me how I wrote Copycat , I have to explain to them the constant state of panic that I was in while I pulled this book together. Intention , my debut novel which was also published by Bloodhound Books, was a labour of love that lasted three years in total, and five years to the point that it was published. I wrote that book as part of my PhD programme, which also means that throughout those three years I had a great support network in place to get me through the process of writing a book. The reason behind the Copycat -panic then was that this would be the first novel I would write without someone holding me up, and those first steps to get the book together were nervous and wobbly ones to say the least.             Copycat ’s  first draft came together in about two months. At the beginning and end of most days, I would sit down at my laptop and I would push and push until I managed a few hundred words at a...

The Diary of a Whatever I Am Now: Corrupted Hard Drive.

Take a walk with me. We’ll go back to August 2010, late August, when I finally found out that despite my below par A-Level grades, there was a university in the country that was prepared to give me a chance. Praise be to them. Ahead of starting this journey, my generous mother bought me a laptop. A brand spanking new laptop. That my kind and patient sister, and her partner, set up for me and taught me how to use. They deliberately picked something that would suit the university life style – and they were bang on the money in that respect. That laptop lasted I-don’t-care-to-remember how many assignments and a 10,000 word undergraduate dissertation. Let’s not forget, either, that during my first and second summers home from university, I also wrote two “novels” (I use that word in a bland and unimpressed tone, incidentally) that were typed on that same laptop. From there, we moved to postgraduate studies. More assignments and eventually a 25,000 word dissertation. By this point ...